No such thing as vampires
by Lolsome-o-sis girl
Summary: Used to be called "Cracks", but now rewritten. Again. I'm never happy with this story, but I think I'm going in a good direction this time. Please read and enjoy - sorry, this isn't a proper summary. Please send me comments...and I'll just shut up now, shall I? :) Rated T
1. Chapter 1: Good riddance

I am in trouble. Again.

Not the slap-on-the-wrist-how-could-you-do-such-a-thing kind of trouble. It's *big* trouble - the kind that leads to urgent, hushed phone calls, and me slumped on one of the black plastic chairs (which, by the way, have NO padding on them whatsoever) outside Doctor Smith's office, playing Candy Crush on my phone with one hand, and eating Pringles with the other. I guess I should be kind of bothered about this, but...I'm not. I'm really not. I've been here many times before; I guess you could call it tradition.

Right on cue, the door to my right hand side opens, and Doctor Smith appears, a grim expression on his weary face.

"Come on in, Melody," he says, holding the door open for me and gesturing to it. I stand, juggling my phone and Pringles tub, and walk into the familiar blue office. At least they have padded chairs in there.

I sit in one of the seats, feet up on the desk. Doctor Smith takes his place opposite me, gently removing my heavy Doc Martins from his personal space.

"So," he begins, hands clasped in front of him. "You back here, in my office, again."

"Glad to see me, are you?" I ask sarkily through a mouthful of Pringles. I've been in trouble hundreds of times, and, let me tell you, hanging your head in shame does nothing. People scream and rage and threaten you all the same. You can only survive by fighting back. And that's all I do. I'm a survivor.

"Melody..." he sighs, resting his forehead against his clasped hands. "What's going ON? What are you trying to do? Get chucked out of every willing foster placement in London?"

"That's a bit unfair," I say, restarting my Candy Crush game. "There are hundreds of places I haven't been thrown out of yet."

Yeah.*Yet.*

His face flares in anger. "I'm disappointed in you, Melody Williams. You *promised* you'd give this a go."

I did promise. And I did. Well, for about five seconds anyway, when I realised that the dumb grandmother that shared the house with me and the foster family hated me from the moment she saw me. For no apparent reason. Can you really blame me for wanting to get away?

"Four months you lasted there, Melody! *Four months*!" He snaps. "And now, they're claiming that you need counselling! Ha! It's a joke!"

"Hardly," I reply.

"Seven foster parents in two years!" He ignores my comment. "Are you *proud* of yourself?"

Well, maybe I am, in a way. It shows that no one can contain me, or hold me down. I'm free to run my own life. If I can just bounce around London for the next six months, until I hit eighteen, I'll be off and out of the care-system. I cannot wait.

"Seven homes in two years and each one glad to see the back of you!"

"They were all twats!" I snap back.

Doctor Smith just sighs again, and leans back in his chair, fiddling with his bow tie.

"You're very lucky, you know that?" He says.

I laugh out loud, even though nothing is funny. Me? Lucky? Please.

"Most kids like you wouldn't be able to be placed so many times, but, you have. And every time, you throw it away. When I said that the Clarkes were your last chance, I meant it."

"What happens now, then?" I ask bitterly. "Gonna lock me up, are you? Send me to boarding school?"

"What good would boarding school do? Your attitude to school is appalling enough as it is," he snarls, before calming himself down and continuing. "I have a friend, up in rural Lancashire. Alex McCauley. She's recently moved into the flats above a school with her partner and his family. I begged and pleaded with them, and they agreed to take you in."

"Lancashire?!" I almost choke on a Pringle. "I'm not moving to Lancashire!"

"I think you'll find you are, Melody."

"There is no way on this earth that I am *ever* going to live in the middle of nowhere with some creepy friend of yours!"

"Trust me, Melody, for someone who is on their last possible foster placement, you've done very well for yourself." He turns back to his laptop and hits a few keys. "It's a school called Garside Grange. It's a beautiful old, rustic building, a stone's throw away from the beach..."

I have to admit...it does sound nice. But, I know better than to get my hopes up. Things are never how people say they are. I learnt that the hard way.

"You'll really like it, Melody," Doctor Smith is saying. "Alex and Mr Count are really nice people, and will take good care of you. There're four kids there - two of them are your age. I'm sure they can't wait to meet you."

"Yeah. I'm sure," I reply, unconvinced. The last time I was in a house with someone my own age, I got into a fight and ended up with a broken nose. Not that it hurt. For some reason, I didn't even feel the blow. I labelled it as adrenaline or shock, but, as I got older, that theory seemed to go more and more out of the window.

"So...you'll do it?" Doctor Smith asks, looking at me expectantly.

"No! Yes. Maybe. I don't know." The thought of me leaving London isn't appealing. London is where I have been all my life - it's the only place I can really call home.

"Well...how about this?" Doctor Smith taps a finger against the desk. "We'll see this summer as a trial run. If you don't settle in, then we can sort out something. But, please, Melody, don't throw this one away. This is your last, last chance. Don't blow it...Promise me."

I shake my head, stretching back in my chair. "Alright. I promise."

"Don't let me down, Melody."

"I won't," I reply, but I don't believe myself. I am the walking, talking embodiment of the word *disaster*. Me and trouble go hand in hand.

Doctor Smith looks convinced, however. He smiles, relieved.

"Good girl, Melody. I think you're making the right choice."

"Am I?" I wonder aloud.

* * *

I let myself into the Clarkes' house, slamming the back door. The place is silent, except for the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. I sigh in relief; I don't think I could face another evil-eyed glare from the grandmother-from-hell. Marching to the cupboard, I yank the door open, and grab the first thing that came into my hand, tipping the contents to the floor. More things fly into my hand, powders and sugar and tea bags and pottery shards falling to the floor, as I whirl my way around the kitchen. Hurricane Melody, as Doctor Smith had once called me. I guess that's an accurate description. I whirl my way through life, leaving a trail of broken and destroyed homes behind me.

I race up the stairs, and burst into my room, banging the door behind me. My suitcase is still lying on my dresser, where it has been for four months. I have been waiting all this time to get out of here.

It doesn't take me long to pack up my suitcase - I don't have much anyway. I take my bedspread - the one I bought myself - and all my necessities, but leave my school books and uniform. I wouldn't exactly need them now, would I?

Before I make a break for it, I turn back and look around the room.

"Good riddance," I snap to no one in particular. "I wish I could say it was fun...but, I'd be lying."


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting for the first time

Doctor Smith drives me up to Lancashire on the day I am due to arrive at Garside Grange. It starts raining as soon as we start heading north, lashing raindrops smacking against the windshield of the big, bright blue van. It's one of the prettiest shades of the colour I have ever seen on a car. Not that I'd tell Doctor Smith that.

We stop at a service station early in the afternoon for beans on toast, and I fumble around in my pocket for the letter sent by Alex McCauley, saying how she can't wait to get to know me, and all about the members of the family. I'm not sure if the four pages are comforting, but at least I'm prepared about what to expect. Doctor Smith has met them all before, of course, but I never have. Now, as we get closer and closer to Garside Grange, I wish that I had asked to meet all of them first, or, at the very least, have a conversation over the phone.

We have been driving for hours and hours, and I am tired and cramped, car sickness churning in my stomach. I can see a silvery line on the horizon, which I can only assume is the coast, as we roll through the shady gravel road, hidden by trees.

Suddenly, the van swerves, and I catch a sign the reads *GARSIDE GRANGE INDEPENDANCE SCHOOL*. We ride up a curving driveway, lined with gorgeous green trees.

"We're here."

"No shit," I mumble, too busy staring at the school. It appears that, for once, Doctor Smith is right; my first impressions of the building take my breath away. It's old, but elegant and large, with pale red brickwork and arched windows and slanting rooftops, covered in grey lead tiles. It's like something out of a classic novel, or a fairytale book.

I don't know if I really belong in a place like this. Fairy tale settings and premises are *NOT* my thing – I am more destruction, devastation. A bomb site would be more suited to me.

A hand-made banner flutters like a flag across the front of the building, strung from one of the upstairs windows. Painted on it are the words *WELCOME TO GARSIDE, MELODY*.

"Aw," Doctor Smith grins at me. "Isn't that nice of them?"

I don't say anything, pressing my lips together. This is not the sort of welcome I usually receive when I get shovelled onto a new foster family.

Suddenly, the view of the house vanishes, replaced by a swirl of rainbow-coloured fabric, causing Doctor Smith to slam down on the breaks.

"OH, *BATS*!" Someone yells from inside.

"VLAD!" A girl's voice rings out. "WHAT ARE YOU *DOING* UP THERE?! YOU DROPPED IT ON TOP OF THEM!"

"WHOOPS!" The first voice yells back.

I unlock my door, and get out, clutching my rucksack to my chest, hugging it for comfort. This is the first time I am even a tiny bit nervous about being with a new foster family - I certainly wasn't expecting this sort of greeting.

A skinny, pixie-like girl, with short blonde hair is swaying in the tree next to the house, hanging onto a piece of string that is connected to the banner, staring up at a dark haired boy that is leaning out of the upstairs window, surveying the scene from above. He disappears when he notices us there, presumably coming down to join our little gathering. Great.

"Hello, Erin!" Doctor Smith waves cheerily at the girl in the tree. "Did you paint this?"

"Only just finished it," the girl replies, jumping down from her perch in the tree, as the boy appears in the doorway. "*Someone*...mentioning no names..." She turns her head to direct a look at the boy, who just sends a grin back her way, shrugging. "...was supposed to help me hang it up, not drop it on top of you."

"John!" I turn at the sound of a new voice. A tall, dark haired woman in her early twenties comes strolling up the driveway, carrier bag in hand, smiling.

"Alex!" Doctor Smith shakes her hand. "Good to see you again! Thank you for doing this."

"No problem. The more the merrier here at Garside Grange." Alex smiles at me. "You must be Melody, yes?" I nod stiffly. "Welcome to Garside Grange. We're all so glad that you've arrived!" Yeah. Like I believe that. No one is glad to see a foster kid enter their home. "I see you've already met Erin and Vlad -" she gestures to the boy in the doorway, who waves at us. "- and the others can't wait to meet you too! We've planned a little party in the back for you; just a little gathering with some folks from the village."

"Yay," I say, without much enthusiasm. Doctor Smith sends me a look out of the corner of his eye, and I give him a stiff smile.

"John, do you think you could give me a hand with this banner?" Alex is asking. "There's a stepladder somewhere...Erin, Melody, can you take these inside, and check on the food, please? We need to get this party started!"

"Sure." Erin takes the carrier bag from Alex and leads me inside, via a side door. Vlad tags along after us, as we climb up a small flight of winding stairs, up onto the first floor, where I can smell the warm, sweet smell of food. My mouth starts watering, in spite of myself.

Erin dumps the bag down on the kitchen table, lifting out a bottle of lemonade, placing it alongside the plates of cupcakes and cookies and cheese kebabs. I glance at the pin board hanging on the wall, filled with reminders and odd-looking photographs, as Erin finds a box of cocktail sticks and rescues a tray of sausages from the oven.

"Could you spear some of these up, you two? I'd better do some more tomato ones...Alex told me you're vegetarian, same as me?" She looks up at me.

"Uh, yeah," I reply.

"Told you." Erin beams triumphantly at Vlad. "You owe me dinner."

"You owe me much more than that." Vlad grins at her, and I roll my eyes, making vomit noises.

"Slush-y," I say.

Erin giggles. "Sorry, are we being too lovey-dovey for you? We're not really used to new people around here. Anyway, are you hungry?"

"Starving," I reply truthfully.

"Here." Erin hands me a kebab and I chew on it whilst working. It's delicious, and Erin knows it, going by the smile she's giving me.

"Hey," She says suddenly, turning to Vlad. "Apparently, Becky's gone vegetarian as well."

"Like that's going to last," Vlad replies. "She'll be snaffling bacon by the end of the week. You know what she's like."

"Who's Becky?" I ask.

"She's a friend from Garside. She lives just down the road from us." Erin rolls her eyes. "She's nice enough, I guess. If she likes you, that is."

"And she *really* likes me," Vlad huffs, looking irritated.

"Poor you," I say sarkily. "What on earth will you do?" He gives me a sideways glance, and I bite my lip. I've never felt bad about insulting someone in my foster family before. This place is bringing out the best in me...and, honestly, I don't like it. You don't get anywhere in the world by being nice to people. You get places in the world by being tough, striving after what you want. And I wanted to get away from the Clarkes, and, hey, guess what? I did. Proves my point exactly.

"I'm glad you're here, Melody," Erin says, interrupting my thoughts. "Alex has been telling us all about you...It's great that we can finally meet you in person."

"Isn't it just?" I say, although I have my doubts that Alex McCauley told Erin and Vlad the *whole* truth of my vast and, for lack of a better word, colourful history. She probably hasn't told them about the time I pelted our dinner lady with pasta salad, or the crockery incident when I left the Clarkes, or the time when I released a family of rats into Mrs Pelly's house. Yeah, I bet those things are still undiscovered...

"I'm glad I'm here too," I say aloud to Erin. "Everything's so...retro. Pretty perfect, if you think about it." Retro means backwards, after all. And that's where I'm going soon...back to London, when I inevitably screw up my last, last chance here at Garside Grange.

Vlad lets out a scoff. "Trust me, it's not perfect here. It's far from it." He grins at me. "You'll come to see that in time. It won't take you long."

"But, hey?" Erin throws her arms up in the air wildly as she speaks. "Who cares about being perfect?"

Who indeed?

"Erin? Vlad?" There's a soft voice at the kitchen door. I turn, to see a boy of five, huddled in the doorway, clutching a soft toy that seems to be bigger than him. He points at me. "Who's that weird girl?"

"This is Melody," Erin replies, dancing her way gracefully across the room and bending down in front of him, so she is at his height. "Do you remember Alex telling us about her? She's come all the way from London."

"Oh." The boy looks round her to stare at me. "I'm Wolfie."

"Hello."

"You're short," he says abruptly, and I huff, defensively.

"So what if I am?"

"It's funny."

"Wolfie!" Erin scolds gently.

"But, she is short! And it is funny!"

"Yes, but we don't say things like that." Too right we don't.

"Oh. Sorry, Melolly."

"It's Melody."

"I meant to say that!" He protests.

"Hey," Erin says to him. "Why don't you go and find Ingrid and tell her that Melody's here? She should be out in the garden, okay?"

"Okay." He scurries off back down the corridor, dragging his stuffed toy behind him. Erin turns back to me.

"You'll get used to Wolfie. He's so sweet once you get to know him."

"Oh, I bet he is," I mutter, folding my arms.


End file.
